


An Old Friend

by GoodOldBaz



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexuality Spectrum, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Made up Backstory, Past Relationship(s), asexual Reginald Bright, before season 6, india mention, pre season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 07:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodOldBaz/pseuds/GoodOldBaz
Summary: An old friend arrives suddenly from India, and Bright has to deal with some emotions he hasn't felt in a very long time.





	An Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before Season 6. The concept was originally written before season 6 too, but I’ve changed and added things to it since.

The cool autumn breeze that blew across his forehead was a welcome change. He had been house cleaning all morning, where it had been stuffy and warm, as Mrs. Bright didn’t like the windows open. She’d had enough fresh air in India to last her her whole life, she said. He supposed he understood. He huffed a little as he raked the front yard, a trickle of sweat dripping into his eye. Despite the fact that the sun was at its hottest, he’d always enjoyed working outdoors in the middle of the day. It was quieter, as everyone else was either at work, or having their lunch. He liked the quiet, and he certainly got enough of it. Even when he wife was home, which these days was rare, they didn’t speak much beyond the day’s news. Their current relationship consisted more of glances and nods than anything else. She barely acknowledged his existence as she came outside, dressed neatly in a dark, knee-length skirt and cream blouse, and got into the car.  
When she had left, Bright quickly finished up the lawn and went inside to change. When his day off coincided with one of Mrs. Bright’s days out, he rarely stayed indoors. Today he was going to the shops to pick up a few things. He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but he rather enjoyed window shopping. “For my wife,” he’d say with a half smile, when he picked up a little glass figurine or something else considered traditionally feminine. Tradition. Sometimes he hated it. He knew he had prejudices of his own, everyone did, but it was 1968, people ought to be a little less judgmental.  
As he walked down the lane he carefully rearranged his dark green paisley bow tie, and pulled his olive gray suit jacket over his shoulders. With his short though quick strides, it only took him about ten minutes to walk to the shops. It had begun to rain as he arrived, so he ducked inside the nearest store, which happened to a ladies clothing shop, to wait it out. He looked around, suddenly aware that several sets of eyes seemed to be staring at the newcomer.  
“Welcome to Jackie’s!” said a young man with a gentle smile. “How can I help you?”  
“Oh, I’m not here to shop,” he said quickly, as a few sets of eyes carefully turned themselves back to the rows of dresses. “I just came in to get out of the rain. Forgot my umbrella.”  
“If you’d like, Sir,” said the young man, his hands folded, “We’ve quite a nice selection of umbrellas right over here. It might give you something to do while you wait.”  
Bright let out a half smile. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he said. He followed the young man and began to browse distractedly, glancing up at the window every few minutes to see if the downpour had subsided. After about ten minutes or so, he picked an inconspicuous black umbrella and went to the counter.  
“Is this all, Sir?” asked the cashier.  
“Yes, thank you,” he smiled.  
The cashier told him the price, which Bright felt that was suspiciously high, and he got out the money and paid.  
“Quite the deluge, eh?” smiled the cashier when Bright walked to the window to look out.  
“And on my only day off,” Bright sighed. He began to open the umbrella when –  
“Reginald?”  
When he heard his Christian name he turned sharply around, feeling rather uneasy. Few people knew it, and even less used it. He scanned the many shoppers, most of which who had their backs to him, when his eyes fell on a beautiful dark-skinned, dark-haired, middle-aged woman who stood amongst a display of shift dresses. It was as if every breath was stolen from his chest. He couldn’t move.  
“Reginald.” Her voice came again, not a question this time. There was no mistaking it now. It was her.  
“Aadhya…” his voice came in a half whisper. He could hardly believe his eyes.  
“Oh, Reginald!” she darted to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He didn’t know what to do as she buried her face in his shoulder.  
“P-please,” he said under his breath. “Not here.”  
She quickly pulled back, painfully aware that he had not returned her embrace in any way.  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but – I had no idea you would be here. It’s beyond, beyond anything I could have hoped for!”  
Sidelong glances from all around the store stole their way towards them. Bright felt himself get very hot under the collar.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, unable to think of any other question.  
She looked hurt, but responded quickly. “I remembered, all those years ago, the stories you used to tell of England, and I finally saved up enough money, so here I am.”  
“With…” his voice trailed off a moment. “Your husband?”  
She shook her head. “I am not married.”  
“But last time I saw you –”  
“I was engaged, I know. But…” She looked at him with her dark eyes slightly damp. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t love him, and I didn’t want what you had with your wife, so I decided I would break it off.”  
“I loved her,” Bright snapped, perhaps too quickly and certainly too loudly, and then added quickly, “Love her.”  
The cashier quickly turned away when Bright noticed him staring.  
Red and embarrassed, Bright turned swiftly. “Let’s go,” he barked. He was out the door in a moment, and she joined him underneath his umbrella.  
“Reginald,” she said pleadingly. “We need to talk, please.”  
His mind was racing so wildly he could barely think. What if someone saw him with her, and told his wife. It could be the last straw.  
“This way,” he said quickly. She followed him closely as he made his way through the rain and into a little café.  
“Mr. Bright,” said the friendly-looking old woman behind the counter.  
“Miss Byrne,” he smiled.  
“Your usual table?”  
“Eh, no, thank you, one towards the back, please,” he said, glancing at the floor.  
The woman raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. “This way then, love.”  
Bright followed her and Aadhya was close behind.  
“Here you are,” smiled Miss Byrne. “Nice and out of the way, for,” she paused and glanced at Aadhya, who unfortunately, despite her fashionable clothing and up-to-date haircut, stuck out like a sore thumb in the very British café, “For you and your friend.”  
“Thank you, Mathilda,” Bright said warmly. “Cream tea for both of us, please.”  
“Coming right up, Mr. Bright,” responded Mathilda. The two shared a half-smile for a moment, and she went to get their drinks.  
“A friend of yours?” Aadhya said, tilting her head.  
“I come here often, on my days off,” Bright responded. “We’ve become friendly.” His hands were shaking so profusely that he could barely light the cigarette he had taken out of his pocket.  
“Here, let me,” Aadhya smiled. She took a little silver lighter out of her purse and held the flame up to the tip of Bright’s cigarette. His eyes held for a very long time on the engraved lighter, the hands holding it, and the face behind them.  
“Aadhya,” he said slowly, after he had taken a long draft of his cigarette. “Why did you really come here? You must have known… you can’t expect me to believe this is pure coincidence.”  
Her beautiful dark eyes rested on the pink tablecloth as she put the lighter back into her purse. “When you left, after your daughter…”  
Bright’s eyes shot up at her.  
“I asked around,” she said. “They told me where you’d been moved to.”  
“But I was still in India then, and that was 30 years ago.”  
“Yes, but in the process of asking for you, I made friends with Sergeant Ange.”  
Bright couldn’t help but smile. “Old Ange,” he said musingly. “A good man.”  
“Yes, and a few months ago I met him again, by chance. He told me you’d been moved here. I was alone, I had nothing and no one besides my daughter, and she is grown and married now. Can you blame me for wanting to come and see the love of my life?”  
Bright nearly dropped his cigarette. “You can’t say that. Damn it, you can’t say that.”  
“Reginald –”  
“No.” He stood up from his seat. “I’m a married man, and I was when we met in India and you nearly ruined my marriage.”  
“Please –”  
“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” he gasped. “Didn’t it ever mean anything to you?”  
Aadhya’s hands clenched into fists. It had been years, but she never forgot his temper. “Sit down. You’re causing a bloody scene.”  
Rather abruptly, he did so. “I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “I didn’t have any right to –”  
“No, you have every right. I let my own emotions blind me to the happiness that you were trying to make for yourself. Even now I probably shouldn’t have come, but I’m here now, so we might as well make the best of it.”  
Just then a young waitress came up with their tea. “Anything else, Sir, Ma’am?”  
“A scone, please,” Bright said.  
“And you Ma’am?” asked the waitress.  
“I’ll have the same,” she responded.  
“That’ll be right out.”  
“Thank you,” Bright nodded as the waitress left them.  
“So,” said Aadhya after a long pause in which Bright sipped his tea. “How is your wife?”  
“Very well, thank you,” Bright responded. “She’s involved in a great deal of charity work. Police widows and orphans, unwed mothers, things like that.”  
“She always had a good heart,” the lady said gently.  
Bright nodded. “Yes, she does,” he said pointedly. “How’s your business?”  
“Oh, good enough.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure what it will be like once I get home.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“You’re not the one who made me come here.”  
For a moment, they were silent. Their food came and they ate and drank, quietly reminiscing about their time in India, slowly becoming more comfortable with each other.  
“How long are you staying?” Bright said when they had finished.  
“Only for a few days.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry, I would have liked…” he paused. He couldn’t think what had made him say it, but the words came out before he even realized what he was saying. “Would you like to come back to my house? For a drink?” he said.  
Aadhya raised her eyebrows. “Yes, yes I would, thank you.”  
They stood, Bright insisted he pay, and they walked outside where the rain had finally subsided.  
“Your English weather, I do not like it,” she said as she pulled her jacket around her shoulders.  
“You get used to it,” Bright smiled. “It took me some time getting used to it again after having been in India for so long. Despite the memories, I did like it there.”  
“Why did you leave?” Aadhya asked.  
“Age I suppose,” Bright shrugged. “They needed younger men there, and here they needed older men who could train the younger men… And my wife, she never cared for the climate.”  
Aadhya slipped her arm into the crook of Bright’s elbow. To her surprise, and to his, he did not pull away. They walked quietly together, back to his house. He could only hope none of his neighbors saw them together. They went inside together, and Aadhya let out a long sigh.  
“Oh, you have so many pieces of India in here, it’s almost like being home again!”  
He couldn’t help but smile at her. Somehow, here in his own home, the red walls and many relics of India around her, it felt right to see Aadhya there. He wondered, if this was what might have been, if things had turned out differently all those years ago. The resentment that he had come to feel for her over the years was slowly slipping away, and so was his well-built guard, just as it had done before. Despite the walls he had built, and the face he put on, he was a man driven by his emotions, and this woman brought up some very strong ones.  
“Gin and lime?” he asked, walking over to the sideboard.  
“Yes please,” she smiled, making her way to the mantelpiece. She reached out her hands and picked up a beautiful carved elephant. “This looks familiar,” she grinned.  
He blushed when he turned to hand her her drink. “It’s always been one of my favorites.”  
“Does your wife know it was made by me?”  
The look on the little man’s face told her the answer plainly enough.  
“She wouldn’t understand,” he said. “But I couldn’t find it in myself to get rid of it.”  
“You’ve always been so kind to her.”  
“In my way I love her,” he said, “It’s my duty to do whatever I can for her.” Bright raised a shaking hand and took a sip of his drink. “Please, sit,” he said.  
She did so, and he found his place beside her on the sofa. Aadhya put her drink down on the side table.  
“There aren’t many men who would stay with someone after all you have been through.”  
Bright stared at the floor. “I could never leave her, after all this time.”  
“She’s no idiot, Reginald, she never was.”  
“I know. She’s probably more capable than I am. But we’ve grown comfortable. We live our own lives and have quite a bit of freedom to do as we like.”  
“But don’t you ever want more?” Aadhya looked intently into her companion’s eyes. His heart beat anxiously in his chest. He broke her gaze to light a cigarette. She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hand. “Reginald, can you honestly tell me you no longer love me?”  
He stared at her for what felt like a very long time. “Please don’t,” he breathed at last. “Don’t do this to me again.” A tear rose in his eyes.  
Her right hand turned his face towards her, while her left slid around the back of his neck.  
“Please…” his voice was hoarse and cracked.  
She slowly pulled him forward, and touched her lips to his. She pulled back after a moment and stared into his eyes.  
“It’s not like that anymore, is it?” she asked, tears in her eyes.  
“I cannot love you the way you want me to,” he said. “I never could. I wish you could have understood that. I’m so sorry.” He turned away from her, taking off his glasses. “What kind of man am I?” he sighed. “Sometimes I wonder. I wonder if I am broken.”  
She grabbed his face and turned it towards him. “You’re not broken,” she said sharply. “No matter what anyone tells you, you’re not broken.”  
He stood up quickly, pulling away from her grasp on him. “I think… I think it might be best if you left.”  
She stood slowly. “I should never have come, I see that now.”  
He looked at her, sadness in his eyes.  
“Goodbye, Reginald,” she said.  
“Goodbye,” he replied.  
She turned, sat her glass on the side table, and left.  
It was well over two hours later when his wife arrived home again. He had done up the glasses in the sink and put them back in their normal spot. No evidence of his visitor could be seen. Dinner was in the stove  
“Hello,” he said to his wife as she hung up her jacket on its peg.  
She seemed to only just then become aware that he was in the same room as her.  
“Hello,” she said, smiling gently.  
“Have a good day out?” he asked.  
She nodded. “Devon and Felicity said to say hello.”  
“Ah,” he nodded sharply. “Very nice. They’re well?”  
“Very well,” she replied.  
“Dinner’s in the oven,” he said. “I’m afraid I got a bit of a later start than usual.”  
“It’s alright,” she said. “I’m not very hungry.”  
She walked past him into the sitting room and poured herself a drink. He followed after her.  
“I was thinking,” he began, hesitantly, “I was thinking, that perhaps, if you didn’t have other plans, we might listen to some music together tonight, after dinner, or before, if you like.”  
She looked at him, mystified. “If you like,” she repeated.  
“And maybe,” he added, “We could dance, like we did, in the old days, you know.”  
She could hardly believe her ears. A slow warmth crept across her. She nodded. “Yes, I would like that,” she replied.  
He smiled, walked over to her, and took her in his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so. Without even the music playing, all memory of his old life seemed to melt away. He was happy where, and how, he was.


End file.
